Safe Now?
by Walley
Summary: *New Chapter Up!* When Eric broke up with Gracie, he told himself it was for good reasons. Now, as a new danger takes hold of our favourite FBI agent, he's having trouble remembering those 'good reasons'. Carries on from the end of Miss Congeniality 2.
1. Rescued?

_AN: This is my alternate ending to Miss Congeniality. I've written it because I, along with many others, was very disappointed with the fact that there was no romance in it all. So here it is. Enjoy!_

_NB: This takes place from where Cheryl and Stan have just got free and Gracie is still stuck in the bottom of the ship._

Cheryl stood at the edge of the water, waiting more and more nervously for Gracie to appear.

"What's going on?" Said a voice from behind her, making her jump. She turned around.

"Eric Matthews?" She said, shocked. "What are you doing here?" She looked slightly suspicious. This man had dumped Gracie, her best friend, for no apparent reason. He wasn't someone she trusted that much. He shrugged.

"We were brought in as back up." He said casually. He looked around, and his expression changed from casual to concern. "Where's Hart?" Cheryl became even more anxious. It had been almost 10 minutes since she came out, and she guessed about 4 or 5 minutes since the boat had filled up with water.

"She didn't come back up." She said, trying to hold back the tears. He looked appalled.

"And no one's gone down there?" He asked. She shook her head, and without a second's hesitation, he dived neatly into the water.

Gracie felt her own eyes begin to fill with tears as she realised that the situation was hopeless. She stopped tugging on the feather boa, and closed her eyes, waiting for death to take her. She thought back over the last couple of years, grinning at all the happy memories that her world famous undercover mission had brought her. She thought about when she had stopped Cheryl being blown up, and nearly laughed out loud at the irony. She had survived shoot outs and potential bombs, and now here she was, dying because of a stupid feather boa.

Suddenly, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, and she turned round sluggishly to find herself staring into Eric's eyes. He let go of her quickly, and looked around. Gracie realised that he didn't know what was trapping her down here, and she quickly tugged on the feather boa, showing him how it was trapped beneath the canon. He nodded briefly to show that he understood, and in one swift motion he pushed the canon off the boa and she was free.

Gracie let Eric take her by the hand and pull her through one of the portholes. They swam up to the surface, Gracie's limbs numbed from the lack of oxygen, and her lungs feeling as though they were about to burst. Her head broke through the water and she gasped for air, feeling herself sink beneath the water once more.

She felt strong arms grasp her waist, and she was suddenly yanked out of the water.

"Hang in there, Hart." Whispered Matthews in her ear, as the world became blurry, and then everything turned black…….

_What dya think? Should I continue? I have a couple more chapters planned, but whether I actually post them depend on the reviews. So please, leave me your thoughts, and as usual I will reply to every comment._


	2. Hidden Feelings?

**I'm so sorry this has taken me so long to update! I'm still in utter shock at the amour of reviews this story has received, and that solely has encouraged me to continue. Please, please continue to review, and I will try and update a ****lot quicker. Thanks, and enjoy this part, I hope it is what you were hoping for.**

Gracie awoke to the dull sound of hospital machines bleeping in the background. She turned over slowly, her eyelids fluttering open. As the room slowly stopped spinning, she realised she was in a hospital room.

The events of the night before came rushing back, and Gracie realised she must have passed out after coming up from the ship. Memories of Eric appearing behind her to save her flooded into her head, and she found herself wondering if it had been a dream. Why would Eric come back? He had broken up with her, so why had he even been at her mission anyway?

Her train of thought was interrupted by a short knock on the door, before it opened to reveal a familiar face before her.

"Gracie!" Cheryl squealed, "You're awake!" She ran over and gave her best friend a hug. "We were so worried about you!" Gracie managed a small smile.

"I'm ok." She said, her voice sounding a little horse. Cheryl beamed at her.

"Hang on, I just have to go and tell everyone that you're awake!"

"Wait!" Gracie called, her throat aching as she yelled. "Who's everyone?" But Cheryl had already gone. Gracie slumped back against the pillows and sighed.

Moments later Cheryl came back in followed by Fuller, Stan, and, to Gracie's surprise, Eric. He stood back against the wall as Gracie was happily greeted by Fuller and Stan. While Fuller was a little gruff and withdrawn, Stan more than made up for it with his overenthusiastic greeting.

"Oh Gracie, thank God you're ok! You know, I was so worried when I saw you passed out! You saved our lives! I've never been more grateful. I thought we were goners!"

And on and on and on…… Stan just kept talking until Gracie finally tuned out, her eyes catching Eric's for the slightest of moments before he hastily looked away.

"Gracie?" Stan asked "Gracie?" She turned back to look at him and smiled.

"Sorry Stan." She said sweetly, faking a huge yawn. "It's just that I am kinda tired. I mean it's……" She looked up quickly at the clock on the wall opposite. "Nearly…. "Her heart sunk "Nine pm… but!" She said, thinking fast, "I do need my beauty sleep!" The laughter that came out of her mouth was obviously fake, but Stan seemed too wrapped up in his own world to notice.

"Of course!" He said "We'll all just clear out, won't we?" He said motioning to the others around him, who all nodded in agreement. As Stan left, Gracie managed to catch Eric's eye again, silently asking him to stay. He must have got the message, as he stayed where he was as the others went, closing the door after them as he silently walked over to stand next to her.

It was funny, since he had broken up with her almost a year before, Gracie had bottled up so many things she imagined saying to him if by chance she ever saw him again.

"Why?" "What was wrong with me?" "How could you do this?" But now, with him standing in front of her, his eyes looking at her but not quite meeting hers, all those words vanished, her hard exterior gone, and she was left once more as the simple girl, in front of the boy that broke her heart. In the movie, now would be the time that the guy confessed his hidden feelings to the girl, and she would throw her arms around him and forgive him, and they would like not-quite-happy-ever-after – but as close as you can get. As she looked sheepishly up at his brown eyes and ruffled hair, she felt her heart shatter once more into tiny pieces. Her throat went dry as she sought the word she needed. After several uncomfortable seconds, all she could come up with was

"Thanks." He looked at her oddly.

"What for?" Now it was her to give him a strange look.

"For saving my life, what do you think?" She returned, her hard exterior and bold demeanour returning, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh come on, Gracie. There's nothing to thank me for. I only did what I hope anyone would do- help a hero in trouble." He managed a small smile. "Besides, it's my job, you know?" Gracie's heart dropped. So that was all he was to her. Another assignment.

So much for hidden feelings.


	3. His Head or His Heart?

_Sorry. Sorry! Dodges rotten tomatoes and other vegetables being thrown at her I'm so sorry it has taken me this long to update!! I've had complete writers block, and, in the past couple of months, have ventured into the Harry Potter fan fiction world. And I can tell you, it's so huge, it's pretty hard to find your way out! But, I did, and so, to say sorry for my long absence, I leave with an especially long chapter! Enjoy!_

He smiled at her once more before he closed the door behind him, leaning heavily against the white walls, letting out a long breath he didn't even know he was holding in. Seeing the sad look behind Gracie's eyes had killed him.

He knew he must have hurt her a lot when he unceremoniously broke up with her over the phone almost a year ago, but he knew that his reasons were justified… He hadn't been comfortable with where the relationship was going, or the speed they were going at.

He liked Gracie a lot, and he still did, but he had panicked, just as he had with two other relationships before Gracie in the last 5 years. He had asked for a transfer to another headquarters and tried to forget Gracie, but it had been virtually impossible with her new status as the face of the FBI.

When his team had been informed of the rescue mission that Gracie and he partner, Sam Fuller, had undertaken to save Cheryl Frasier, Miss United States, and the shows former host, Stan Fields, Eric couldn't stop himself volunteering to head a team to go in as back-up. In his short time at his new headquarters, he had already made a good impression with his new boss, and he had granted permission to form a team, and so Eric drove down to the casino with relatively un-needed speed.

His heart had immediately taken up residence in his throat when he scanned the area to see the two men being taken away by what he guessed were men from another headquarters.

The woman he recognised as Fuller, Gracie's new partner he had seen on the TV with her a few times, was standing nearby Stan Fields, who was addressing several men holding microphones out to him. While Eric couldn't tell what Stan was saying, he guessed from his elaborate gestures that he was giving an overly dramatised account of his and Cheryl's capture and rescue.

When his gaze finally left Stan, he saw Cheryl standing by the water's edge, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a man with dark hair standing hesitantly a few metres behind her. His heart stopped.

He couldn't see Gracie anywhere.

He ran over to Cheryl and after casually asking her where Gracie was, she tearfully confessed that Gracie still hadn't come up from the ship after freeing herself and Stan. Eric's eyes widened. That must mean that Gracie had been trapped in the sunken ship for more than several minutes.

He had neatly dived down into the water, frantically swimming in a straight line down to a window in the ship, squeezing his body through the small hole. He saw Gracie's form slumped over a fake cannon, not moving. He moved towards her and put his hand on her shoulder, and she turned slowly, her eyes lit up with hope at the prospect of help.

He could see that her chocolate brown eyes were filled with confusion, but he let go of her and gestured around them, trying to ask her what was wrong. She tugged sharply on the feather boa that was attached to her outfit, and, with a nod, he pushed the heavy cannon off the boa.

He turned to her, to see that her eyes were half closed, and her mouth open slightly, and he knew she must be suffering from the lack of oxygen. He took her warm hand in his own and pulled her gently but firmly through the water to the porthole, letting her swim through first, and then following her.

As they swam back towards the surface, he could feel her slowing down, and guessing that her limbs were seizing up, found himself pulling her through the water as she drifted, almost unconscious. He propelled himself forward as fast as possible, he had to get her back to land before it was too late..

And then he felt the air hit his face, and he knew he had made it. He just hoped that it wasn't too late for Gracie. He tugged her out of the water as he felt her becoming submerged once more, and he saw Fuller and the man he had seen with Cheryl reach over the water to help pull Gracie out of the water as she slipped into unconsciousness. Before she was pulled away from him completely, he managed to say into her ear,

"Hang in there, Hart." His voice sounded gruff, and there was a tremor of worry in it as he saw her being lain down by Fuller and the man. Two paramedics went racing over to her, checking her heartbeat and pulling out medical equipment. As soon as the reporters noticed the rush of activity, the camera's starting flashing and he was lost in the hubbub.

Now, almost two days later, and he had spent all his time at the hospital waiting for Gracie to come round. He really didn't know what to do- his heart was telling him that he loved her with every fibre of his being, but his head was telling him to get of there before he got hurt as he always did.

Usually he let his head prevail in arguments like these (and it was scary how many there were between his head and his heart- he sometimes wondered whether he needed help) but he had seen the pain in Gracie's eyes during their brief conversation a few minutes ago- she was hurting too.

And it was his fault.

His heart ached at what she must have been through due to his actions- how hurt and confused she must have been when he broke up with her out of the blue after several wonderful months of dating. He stood up. For once in his life, he was going to follow his heart. And damn his head to hell if he shouldn't; he didn't care.

He left the cafeteria and marched up the hallways towards the elevator. He spent an uncomfortable few minutes in the small space with an old lady with a walker, who kept smiling toothily at him, her eyebrow raised. He focused his gaze on the top corner of the elevator, tapping his foot, willing the damn thing to go faster.

Finally the doors slid open onto the third floor, and he left the woman with her walker and strode off towards Gracie's room. He spent a few nervous seconds standing outside her room, having doubts about going in.

"_Oh, my God!" _His heart said, and he started. Ok, this was getting scary now. His heart had it's own voice?! _"Just go in, man! You're being stupid! What exactly do you think she's going to say?" _

As crazy as it seemed, the voice was right. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open, stepping inside.

"Gracie," He said, his voice sounding alarming high "I'm sorry. I love you."

_Oooh, __cliff-hanger! Well, sort of. The best I could think of, anyway. Review to find out what happens! And, yes, I do plan to update within months, don't you all go worrying your pretty little heads over that! So, review! And, to sweeten the deal, I am offering, in exchange for review, a declaration of love from which ever Miss Congeniality character you wish. Plus a box of cookies. : ) _


	4. Which Room Again?

_Ok, so, yeah.. it's been a while. Sorry about that! But this a rather long chapter, and one that was really hard to write. Grrr. I hate damn writer's block. I'll try and make the wait a little shorter between this and the next chapter, though I can't promise or guarantee any thing. Sorry! Oh, and I apologize for the futile attempt at humour at the beginning- I tried to lighten this chapter as the next few will probably be a bit more dramatic and angsty._

_Enjoy:)_

"Gracie? Who's Gracie?" A voice mumbled from under the bed clothes. Eric's brow knitted together, perplexed by this odd response. Before he could reply, a head emerged at the top of the bed, and Eric was surprised to see the confused face of a seventy something woman peering at him from the other side of the room, as opposed to the rather more beautiful face of Gracie Hart. The old woman cocked her head slightly at him, her eyes still bleary from sleep. "I think you might have the wrong room, sonny." She said apologetically. He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment, and he backed out of the room as quickly as possible, stuttering some fractured excuse that neither he nor the woman heard or understood.

He pulled the white door closed behind him, and buried his red face in his hands, admonishing himself for his stupid mistake. He wondered how he made such an idiotic mistake, and kicked himself when he looked up at the numbers on the door and saw that in his rush to see Gracie he had not seen that this was room 345, not the 445 that Gracie was in.

He gathered himself together, and strode off down the corridor towards the staircase, taking the steps three at a time, not necessarily in a huge rush to see Gracie, but more because he guessed that sooner or later his nerve would give out, and he was slouch home to collapse in his apartment, not having the guts to at least talk to Gracie in earnest.

When he finally reached the door to Gracie's actual room, he found a nurse just leaving, closing the door quietly. She turned back round and started slightly when she saw Eric standing close, his breathing erratic and fidgeting as he waited to go in. She frowned at him sternly, glancing down at her watch and back up at him, her finely plucked eyebrow raised at him. He took the hint and looked down at his own watch, and realized with groan that it was gone nine o'clock.

"Visiting hours finished more than two hours ago, Sir." The nurse informed him primly, and he looked at her quizzically,

"But, when Miss Hart woke up we were allowed in to see her, and that can't have been more than an hour ago!" He protested. Her eyes darkened and her frown pulled tighter, and Eric swallowed nervously, suddenly fearful of this woman in front of him.

"Never the less, Sir, you must understand that those were unusual circumstances, what with Miss Hart's condition."

"But surely, five more minutes now wouldn't make any difference, considering that we've already been to see her after hours anyway." Eric tried to reason, but the woman just shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I'm afraid that the Doctor's already given Miss Hart some medication that should have her off to sleep within the next ten minutes. She needs her rest."

"Can't I please just go in for ten minutes until she's asleep then?" Eric pleaded, "I need to talk to her about something really urgent." He saw the Nurse's expression relaxing slightly. "Please. I really need to talk to her." He crossed his fingers, hoping that even if this didn't work, he could still pull the old excuse of

'Eric Matthews, FBI.'

However, there was obviously no need, as the woman sighed, but nodded, jerking her head towards the door.

"Fine. But I'll be waiting here, and _only_ ten minutes, do you hear me? Otherwise I'll have security haul you out of here faster than you can flash that badge of yours at me." Seeing his raised eyebrow, she laughed. "I don't miss a thing, me. I saw you persuading Nurse Green to let you in earlier." He chuckled, but dodged past her into the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

Obviously a little too loudly, according to the moan from the bed, as the bang from the door hitting the frame resonated around the cold, quiet room. His eyes were drawn to the moaner, and saw that Gracie's eyes were closed and her pale features looked peaceful for once in her life.

She was asleep.

He sighed with disappointment, turning to leave again, but suddenly he heard her breathe something in her sleep.

"Eric..." She whispered, her brow furrowing as she dreamt, and he spun back around to stare at her open mouthed. She was dreaming about _him_?

After all the crap that she'd gone through today, she was dreaming about him. It probably shouldn't have, but that thought alone brought a small smile to his face.. which quickly disappeared when he heard her next words;

"Eric? No, Eric, please, please don't go.." Her face crumpled, and her hand clutched at the white blanket covering her. He crossed the room and deposited himself in the green plastic chair (one of the hospital ones that, in his meagre opinion, were made to become unbearably hard and awkward after more than fifteen minutes spent in them; all part of a hospital ploy to shorten the time people spent with the patients.) that was next to Gracie's bed. His body propelled into auto- pilot, and his hand was suddenly smoothing Gracie's soft brown hair out of her face, his other hand finding hers, his digits weaving themselves between her own slender fingers. His heart felt a sharp pang of regret, remembering what it felt like to be able to do this every time he saw her- and with her conscious.

Not only that, but to hear her upset over him, even if it was only in a dream, was enough to tear away at his already tarnished heart a little more.

"Please," She whispered, grabbing his hand, "Please, don't leave me, don't leave me alone again..."

"It's alright," He whispered, trying in a futile attempt to sooth her- and himself. "I'm here, I'm here now. I won't leave, I promise, I'll never let you go again." He gently rubbed her hand with his thumb, her tiny whimpers quietening to almost non existent snuffles, until the only sound left in the room were the sounds of her heavy, even breathing. He spent a few minutes in silence, watching her frame move slowly up and down with each breathe, wondering how such a powerful, confident woman could suddenly seem so fragile and small. His thoughts were interrupted by the door creaking open, and he turned to see the face of the nurse who had let him in.

"Sir," She said quietly, "It's been ten minutes." He smiled sadly and nodded to her, getting up from his seat and reluctantly letting Gracie's hand go. He bent down, and after hesitating for a moment, placed a quick kiss on her forehead.

"Bye," He whispered, smiling slightly at the sleeping woman. "I'll be back tomorrow."

He left the room, to find the nurse waiting for him, a knowing smile on her face.

"Visiting hours start at 10:30 tomorrow, Sir, but we're expecting some journalist in tomorrow to try and get something from Miss Hart about the incident today. It's probably going to get extremely crowded." He sighed, knowing how hard it would be to get to see her through all of the media, with or without his badge. "But," The nurse said, giving him an encouraging smile, "If you could get here by about 9:45, I'll see what I can do." He grinned at her.

"I'll be here."

A few hours later, Gracie woke up. She smiled, remembering her dream of a warm hand in hers, soothing words and a soft kiss on her forehead. She found herself hoping that Eric might come back to see her, _wishing_ that he would.

Eric Matthews lay awake, counting the minutes until he could go and see Gracie- and hopefully try and explain things to her a little. Maybe she'd give him a second chance. It was all he could hope for right now.

Brenda Mackay wasn't used to being on the night shift at the hospital. She sat in the reception, the room silent except for the sound of her pen rapping the desk every few seconds, or the occasional bored sigh. It was a little before 3 am before she fell asleep.

She was completely oblivious to the four men slipping through the front doors and past her desk, down the corridor and up the staircase to the forth floor.

The next morning, Eric was greeted with mayhem when he got to the hospital at approximately twenty five minutes to ten. There were hospital workers running around looking for this and that, and over by the desk, he saw a woman in her fifties being interviewed by two policemen in crisp uniform. He pushed his way through the crowd to another policeman by the door, and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, but what's going on here?" The policeman shook his head regretfully.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't divulge that information to the public right now." Eric sighed, reaching into his back pocket of his jeans and pulling out his badge. He flipped it open in front of the guy's face.

"Agent Matthews, FBI. I'm gonna need you to tell me what's going on." He narrowed his eyes. "Now." The policeman nodded, and gestured for Eric to follow him out into the corridor.

"Sorry, it's best to talk in here where we won't be overheard by any of the public- or the media, for that matter." He glanced around nervously, checking that they were alone before he continued, "Last night, at around 4 am, we had a break in. We were short staffed with security, and we were missing our usual night time receptionist."

"What was stolen?" Eric asked, and the policeman grimaced.

"It's not so much a case of _what_ was stolen, but _who. _Last night, Gracie Hart was kidnapped."

_Hehe. Cliffie. :) Please review, but, you know, no pressure. I'm hardly going to chase you down with a power drill. That's just reserved for flamers. _

_Thanks for reading! Ok, so, yeah.. it's been a while. Sorry about that! But this a rather long chapter, and one that was really hard to write. Grrr. I hate damn writer's block. I'll try and make the wait a little shorter between this and the next chapter, though I can't promise or guarantee any thing. Sorry! Oh, and I apologize for the futile attempt at humour at the beginning- I tried to lighten this chapter as the next few will probably be a bit more dramatic and angsty._

_Enjoy:)_


	5. Saving Miss Gracie?

_AN: Bet you weren't expecting this to ever be updated! To be honest, I lost my muse completely until about six weeks ago, when the idea for the rest of this fic suddenly hit me and I ran to write this chapter on my laptop. The next part of the story is kind of shameful: I forgot my ffnet password. I know, I'm stupid. Sorry about that one, everybody! Still, hopefully you'll all enjoy this chapter as much as you have the rest of the fic!_

* * *

"Kidnapped?" Eric replied, completely astounded, "But…how?" The policeman sighed, wringing his hands together.

"Mr. Matthews, I'm sure—"

"_Agent_ Matthews." Eric snarled, and the policeman gulped, Eric plan to intimidate the lower ranked man clearly working.

"Sorry. _Agent _Matthews, I can assure you that we're doing our best to find out the answer to your question as we speak. We have a team spread throughout the building, checking for prints or anything else that can tell us where to start our search for Miss Hart." Eric checked his watch, shooting the man a withering look.

"You mean to tell me that Gracie Hart has been missing for nearly six whole hours, and you're still checking the place for prints?" His voice full of barely masked disgust. The policeman tugged at his shirt collar, looking extremely uncomfortable.

"Well, she wasn't actually discovered missing until around seven thirty this morning, so—"

"You mean that, despite the fact that Miss Hart is the face of the FBI, and therefore a most probably someone who should have someone outside her room at all time, let alone someone checking on her during the night, no one thought to see if she was okay until half past seven?" The policeman sat up a little, narrowing his eyes at Eric's words.

"It isn't really up to us what the hospital choose to do with their staff, Agent Matthews. If you have a complaint about how Miss Hart was being treated, kindly voice it to somewhere who works here." He said coolly. However, Eric wasn't defeated, more than happy to let out his anger over Gracie's disappearance out on this man.

"I'm sure that if you'd wanted to, it wouldn't have taken a huge amount of effort to secure a couple extra people on security here; it wasn't as if you people weren't aware that she was a high risk patient." He said, the bite in his words silencing any argument the policeman may have been going to put forward. With that, Eric stood up abruptly, leaving the room, smirking when he heard the relieved sigh from the terrified policeman.

"And _that_ is why I went straight into the FBI." He murmured to himself.

--

Gracie's eyes cracked open, blinking slowly a few times until everything was no longer blurry. She went to lift a hand to brush her hair out of eyes, but was surprised to find that she couldn't move it. Still slightly groggy, she groaned quietly, struggling to try and lift her hands to her face. Finally, she looked down, and was confused to see that, not only were her wrists bound, but her whole body was tied up in thick rope, her ankles tied together ad her arms held tightly to her sides. She scanned the room, panicking when she realized that she was in a small, dank box of a room as opposed to her white walled hospital room. Her heart racing, she tried to cry for help, but her voice was still quiet from the drugs she'd been given the night before by the nurse at the hospital. She carried on in her attempts to shout, hoping her voice would grow stronger as she spoke, but broke up as the large door in the opposite corner of the room creaked open, a figure stepping into the doorway.

--

"What do you mean 'it's not our priority'?" Eric shouted, slamming his fist down on the desk. McDonald sighed, running a hand over his face.

"In case you hadn't realized, Matthews, Gracie was let go from the FBI before she went missing. Therefore, she is not out priority!"

"So what, we just leave her to be killed by these bastards?" Eric said, unable to understand why McDonald would suggest anything of the sort.

"Listen, Eric." McDonald said, sitting back down. "She's going to be found. Just because she's not number one on our list doesn't mean that there isn't anyone looking for her – you said yourself that there were people at the hospital searching for any evidence there was there. Just leave it to the police, Matthews." He let out a small smile. "They're no FBI, that's for sure, but they're not completely incompetent.

"But, Sir—"

"Leave it Matthews, unless you want to be the next FBI we have to dismiss." McDonald said firmly, and Eric let out a frustrated groan, slamming McDonalds' door on the way out.

--

"Is that Agent Foreman?" Eric said, speaking quietly into the phone. He was sat on the floor by his desk, the phone pressed to his ear with one hand, the other holding a stack of agent files. The one on top read 'Agent 5678355: Foreman, Jeff'. Eric noticed the red 'Released' stamp on the top right hand of the paper, and wondered exactly how many people had been fired in the attempt to save Cheryl and Stan.

"Yes, who is this?" A polite voice spoke down the phone, and Eric checked the notes he'd written for himself, all the while trying to keep himself hidden in the dark office. He'd had to wait until every other agent had left before raiding the massive archive of data for the files he wanted.

"This is Agent Eric Matthews. Have you heard about Gracie Hart?" A sigh on the other end of the phone.

"Yes, it's been on the news today."

"I was wondering if you'd help be part of a team to try and locate her. The FBI aren't even going to get involved, so I'm going to try and find her myself. I know you helped her with finding Fields and Fraiser, so I was hoping you'd be willing to help now." There was a slight pause down the end of the phone.

"Count me in." Eric grinned, putting a tick next to Foreman's name on the list, directly below the one he's put by Sam Fuller's just minutes ago.

"Fantastic. Now, here's what we're going to do…"

--

"Good morning, Miss Hart!" The man said, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. "I hope you had a pleasant night." He said, his words laced with sarcasm.

"Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?" She asked, her voice still weak. The man laughed loudly, coming closer to her.

"Who am I?" I'm sure the name I go by now won't mean much to you, Miss Hart, but I never was one to turn down a simple question from a pretty girl. My name is David Martin." He waited a few seconds. "No, I didn't think you'd recognize it. It wasn't the name I was born with, you see. It would have been far too difficult to make it own my own if I'd kept my family's name, so I changed it." He grinned, his smile a little too wide and making Gracie shrink back. "I think you may be more familiar with my real name, , my surname, anyway. So let me introduce myself properly." He crouched down and extended a hand to her. "Hello, Grace Hart. My name is David Morningside."

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_You know what I love? Reviews. I love each and every piece of feedback I get from you guys. :)_


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